I’ve read that poetry is a lot easier to write, and in most regards, it is.  This is why you probably find poets churning out poetry like no one’s business.  It’s a great way to let your creativity flow without the constant nitpicking and editing one does, as is often the case of short stories and novels.  For those who have written anything 100 pages or longer, you know what I mean.  This isn’t to say poetry doesn’t have a place in the writing world.  It does and should as noted by some pretty good damn poets out there, past and present.  I should do more of it because it keeps the creativity juices flowing.  It might give me the kick in the ass I need to get back to my rewrite and finish my short stories.


Hello, My New Friends: 2018-2019

When Pistol Speaks, You Listen

Pull it out. 

Nice and shiny.

The power.  The glory.   The spotlight.

You want it. 

Yes.  Yes. Yes.

You got it.

Many times.

Many times over.

You have it.





Not here.

Not now.

Not later.

You do.



All of it.



I invited you more than once. 

It wasn’t right of me to do. 

Taking your power away.

Bleeding your veins until they were dry.

You resented me.   I know.

It didn’t matter.  I didn’t care.  I still don’t.

You knew this.

Still, you kept at me, wanting me to answer.

So foolish.  So stupid.  So numb.

I wanted you to grow up.  Be a man. 

Be someone like me, but you failed me, every time. 

I did you a favor.  The one you never thanked me for.

You wouldn’t have been happy alive.

I knew this as your head detached from your neck.

Your hands seeking admiration as you took your last breath.

Seeking your meaning in the wrong places.

I closed your eyes and buried your head.

You can hate me.  I accept this. 

It really doesn’t matter.  It never did.

You are gone.  I am still here.

You are bloodless.  I still bleed.

Because I’m Human

I woke up hungry

and not because I hadn’t eaten the night before.

I did.   Okay, I really did.

Still, my stomach made noises right away,

and not those painful ones accompanied by growls.

I didn’t deny myself anything last night,

and yet the reminder before things get crazy,

before I become really mad,

and not able to control myself continued.

Hold on.

First things must come first.

I must brush the nasty taste out of my mouth,

and rid myself of what I drank the previous day.

No one likes cotton mouth.

No one likes bad breath.

No one likes to hold it.

 No eggs.  I understand.

The punishment of it all, but this was a year ago. 

There must’ve been some change within me.

I know.  I’m kidding myself.  I know.

Open the door and look inside. 

It’s the same thing.

On All Fours You Were Gone

Your head was flattened as far as it could go in that tire track.

We spotted each other at the same time. 

I wanted to help, but what could I have done.

There wasn’t enough room under my coat,

And I didn’t want to get scratched by your claws.

Been there. Done that.  No thanks again.

It was pouring that day.  The sky was dark.  The drops were harsh against my face.

I had places to be, but I slowed down and crept toward you.

I thought, maybe, you could use a friend.

Maybe, you could feel a connection with my words and hand gestures.

Without moving your head, I knew you were watching me.

I meant you no harm when you raised your body on all fours.

Out of fear or hesitation, I can’t be sure. 

I didn’t mean to drive you out of your comfort zone with that extra step.

You darted away, running for another place.

I watched you through my half-obscured glasses, wondering where you had gone.

For this I am sorry.

The Deal

You weren’t the exception that day for me.

I saw your hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to make your

fingers cramp like one’s stomach does after overeating. 

A person of your caliber never thinks logically when someone like me chases you. 

It’s tragic knowing there’s nothing you can do to get away.

You claim your living the good life.  You’re not.

A whole range of thoughts go through your head when your livelihood is at stake. 

You possess a half-life, if that, and you know there’s never a way out.

I’m always on your heels. 

The threat of your inside becoming your outside is real.

The cuts are now shallow.  The hours will seem much longer. 

You’ll find your life will further dissect until you can’t hold the minutes with ease.

You want what I have.  You want my name.  You want my power.

This will never happen when there’s nothing to add and everything to subtract.

Let it Go

I was willing to let it go.

Let the dogs lie peacefully, but you had to utter those words.

You did not see how it’s my usual nature to ignore someone like you,

to let the wind carry your stupidity away before it lands on my shoulder.

This time it was different.  

Your disrespect in the way you muttered something under your breath.

I will remind you it was your fault.

I was not the one who took something that was not mine.

You were the one who kept pecking.

You were the one who created this divide between us with the reaction

on your face, and the returned response on mine. 

There was nothing left between us except your frustration and anger,

and all because you could not let it go.

Those words I could not hear.

I knew what they meant,

and this is why I was not silent.

Five Words

I’ve seen what tired looks like on a divorced woman.

It hangs in front of her like a carrot she never can reach again.

I knew of others who suffered this affliction.

They bathed in it much too long, and I never bothered to ask the important


How do you get rid of it?  Maybe, you don’t.  Maybe, you can’t.

Maybe, you should try harder.   Maybe, you shouldn’t.

When I came home that Wednesday night, there was a note.

Yes, it was the night he left me after fifteen years together.


Did I mention, he put an exclamation point.

It was, at this point, I lost my appetite.  I became a closet Debbie Downer.

A few times I thought death was the best option, but it passed quickly.

I wasn’t that kind of woman, but when the waves in my life tank became too big,

and the bottom no longer there, it was tempting.

I managed to grab something, only for it to slip out of my hand, and drift away.

Sometimes the loss was unbearable and was forced to close my eyes.

He was the one person I thought would never leave me.

It became the longest year of my life.  It isn’t easy to breath when you’re not in


I no longer had his arms comforting me.

I longed for his touch.  I longed for his smell.  I longed for his words.

I also longed to slap his face for his inability to be truthful.

A few months had passed when I recognized something.

It was no longer our bedroom.  It was my bedroom.

This was my carpet digging into my legs.  This was my wall touching my back.

I could paint over the ugliness on the walls.

Nothing was ours anymore.  Nothing was his anymore.

He didn’t want the house.  His input no longer matters.

I should’ve known better.  Our separation was a bad dream.

Our divorce is going to be a good dream.

I loved him once, and he loved me too.

I have no idea where he is living or if he has another woman.

Too much time has passed, and I have since painted the walls again.


Dig Deeper

I have cut myself to my ankles many times before

because that is what you taught me.

This is what you breathed into my mouth

when I didn’t want your lips anywhere near mine.

You insisted,

Boy, did you keep insisting.

Jeez, how deep did you think you could go?

What the fuck was the matter with you?

Wait, don’t tell me.  I don’t want to know.

The hatred.  The loathing.  The revenge.  The pain.

The sad part is you still don’t give a shit.

I trusted you to have my back,

and you did nothing but push me down,

over and over again

until my shell was cracked into a thousand pieces.

It’s a wonder how I ever survived through it all.

Yet, I did.

Some fucking how, I did.

Here, I am, the only one left. 

The survivor.

It started with you and ends with me.

Get ready because soon the whole world will know what you did

despite you never caring.

The Belly

I have outlived you by a few years, at most probably five,

maybe even ten, but no more than eleven.

As I sat waiting to reach my destination,

I had time to think about you in the silence, imagining what

aspirations you had, and when you realized all was lost. 

You went back to nothing again and again because the path you followed was the

wrong one.  It must’ve been a revelation hitting you in the face

when you reached the dead end.

I’m not sure what I would’ve done in your shoes,

but I know the tears you wiped and the revenge you should’ve had

was all for one thing and one thing only.

I should’ve asked for you sooner.

I never imagined I would pick you apart, only to try to tape you back together again

year after painful year. 

I never knew why you were gone even though I knew what had happened.

There’s no more needing the answer.

I have it, and so do you now.

There’s freedom for both of us, and while this feels strange to say,

it is reality I’ve accepted because

without you there would be no me.

Weary Comparison

You tell me you can’t go on,

that you are sore,

burned out,

sent to the brink of not being able to return.

But you’ve never listened to yourself,

or told yourself you can go on,

as a fighter,

a survivor,

someone that strikes first and asks questions later.

You pass by people who have betrayed

you with all their intelligence,

and you think they are better

than you,

but they aren’t,

and why you can’t accept that I’m not sure.

Their fingers and toes aren’t

anymore special than your own,

but you insist on burning both ends of the stick,

and it never makes sense

why you do this,

when your existence is questionable.


If I told you to touch it, would you? 

I don’t think you would.

I really don’t think you would.

You crave loneliness.

You do things in the dark.

It’s not like I don’t know who you are.

I see you not holding your words in truth.

I hear you doing bad things.

I touch your ugliness all the time.

You have not fooled me.

It’s not as if I lost my senses.

You keep trying to hide things, believing each time you succeeded.

You wonder why it happened that way.

If I told you I would kill it, would you let me?

Allow me to stop its suffering. 

Allow me to stop the contortions.

Have it not scamper to an unknown spot,

Never to be found again.

Your misery vanished.

I don’t think you could handle it.

I really don’t think you could.

You like darkness.

I wonder if you really do.

You might stay there forever.

What would you do?

What could I do to you?

Not You

I’ve kicked you out many times

From my mind.

I’ve bolted down the tiny path,

Always leading somewhere toward mistakes.

I played with death

Because of you.

I wanted it.

I craved it.

I needed it.

My chest was crushed under your weight.

The weight I thought was something else.

The something else that was fear.

The fear that turned into pure ugliness.

I screamed.

I sobbed.

I mourned.

It wasn’t that you betrayed me,

But the way you did it,

So viciously and carelessly.

You simply didn’t give a damn,

Despite all your promises.

You’ve been replaced with pain of another kind,

Broken and dejected.

Similar yet different.

Empty feelings.


I wonder.

I wander.

I wait.

In the Meantime


Are up there,


I am down here.


Were always with me,


And hearing my voice quiver.

My high pitched words,

Sounding like unsettled screams,

As you stroked my fears away.

Every day you are gone,

I am unsettled,

Not still,

Not sure,


And waiting.

Sometimes it is

Unbearable for me,

And I think

When this feeling ends,

Will I be stronger?


Have moved away,

For such a long time,

Way over there,


I miss you,



It seems you have been here before.

Yes, you have.

The objects look the same.

Yet, you know they are different.

The dust is another layer formed.

Another year gone by, and you must escape from under these dark clouds.

Your eyes are heavy.

Your ears don’t hear well.

Strength can be difficult to find.

Every morning you put life into categories,

As if they can be labeled,

As if they will gain a different meaning.

One you will understand better.

One that doesn’t make your heart so weary.

One that doesn’t make you suffer so much.

Yes, the arrows still fly around you.

Nights become days as you walk toward the dark again.

You feel more is within your grasp, but never fully able to see it.

It takes time to deliver.




You tell yourself these words.

You navigate the weight of life on your shoulders.

There are no remedies to take the pressure away.

Yes, it is this way.

Not all the time is it great.

Not all the time is it right.

There aren’t magical words to fulfill your desires.

Half of your existence remains tucked away.


What Could Have Been

What are the odds?

Not very high. 

I told myself this over and over.

It must be difficult to know you lost out on something.

Yes, it stings a little bit, but all the time people lose.

Some lose something small. 

Some lose something big.

It is easy to let it fester.

Stay up all hours of the night. 

What was the meaning of this? 

Am I not seeing something there? 

Is this is another lesson?

Why did I miss it? 

What do other people do?

Because I only feel numbness.

This is a screwed up way to teach me a lesson.

I wasn’t told these kinds of things would happen.

I wasn’t given the choice that life would get harder instead of easier.

I wasn’t told many things.

I find myself not so hopeful.

It is sad I might never be reunited with the might have been.

It is downright a gloomy prospect.

I am not sure where to place my feet now.

It scares me more than I am admitting.

The sun rising or setting does not comfort me like it once did.

This kind of repetition gets old.

Will the sun stop rising and setting at some point?

Will it disappear?

I am not feeling like I once was.

I am not feeling much at all.

The odds were very high this time.

There had to be another way.

There simply was not.

The Blind Date

She told me to not be so damn perfect. 

It wasn’t that I was trying all that hard. 

I told her this.  I truly did.  I did.

I did, I did, I did, I did, I did.

You think she listened to me.

No.  No.  No.

Each no for what I presume to be each of her emotions.

She didn’t listen to me,

For she was intrigued too much. 

Maybe, my thick hair.

Maybe, my biceps.

Or, my imported leather jacket.

Were any of those her reasons?

She didn’t let herself hear of my minor flaws.

It didn’t even enter the space between her head to listen.

She hardly knew me, and to make it worse, she was such a stubborn, little thing.

I would’ve let her slip her hand into my pocket: back or side, if I cared

To listen to her chattering on and on.

It wasn’t that I tried to get to this point as she sipped her cosmopolitans. 

She did.  She did.  She did.  She did.  She did.

This wasn’t the right woman for me.  It wasn’t the right woman, at all.

She had none of the characteristics I was seeking.

I wasn’t sure why she put my entire essence on a gold encrusted pedestal.

If only it were real, then that would be something to get excited about.

How I wish it was both, the gold and our initial meeting, at the same time.

This girl wanted to be a gigantic do it yourself woman.

This bubbling world we call modern life isn’t suited for men like me.

As the saying goes, she was turned on.

Yet, I didn’t want to go anywhere with her, suitable or not.

I’m all for bringing chivalry back,

But not when it includes this kind of woman.

Certainly not.

Certainly not.

Most certainly, definitely, absolutely not.

But something held me back.

I couldn’t run even if I had tried.

So, don’t fault me for not leaving,

Because when a man cracks,

Everyone hears it.

I Ask When

This too shall pass, they told me.

When I asked why, there was nothing but silence.

This was why it never went beyond the first question.

On that day, I never received anything substantial.

I wanted more and rightly so, but it was never the right time.

They proved me wrong over and over again.

These hardened feelings still fracture my heart.

If they haven’t passed yet, it soon will was the message.

But I’d like to know when.

Mirror, Mirror

The face in the mirror looked at me.

Hadn’t seen this face for a long time, but here it was to haunt me.

Couldn’t tell if it was mine or that of the monster.

I hadn’t seen the monster for a while either.

He held my attention even when its features became blurry.

No longer could I spot where the sides of the face ended.

The flesh seemed to melt away or maybe it disappeared behind the steam.

I wasn’t ready for it to leave quite yet.

But I knew it was not mine to claim.

I had tried to discard this face a long time ago.

It was the right choice to make, and yet the dark eye was visible to me.

It had restricted me at certain times.

I was too impressionable back then.

The small changes within myself were purposely forgotten.

My proof of turning a new leaf was an invention of mine.

I had turned into an ugly liar, and it felt crummy.

I was not a good person as much as believed otherwise.

My insides never caught up with my outer appearance.

The face in the mirror was despicable.

The monster that scared me was wicked.

There was a time I saw my innocent face, but I knew deep down it was cracked.

It didn’t matter what I desired.

None of it would come true.

The face in the mirror continued looking at me.

Couldn’t tell who it was, but only that it was searching for something more.

The Night

The music between us was loud and boisterous, as if it shouted from the speakers,


There was no one in that room not moving that night.

If you weren’t dancing, someone would have grabbed your hand and dragged you

onto the floor.

All of the movement made my head dizzy. The price you pay for fashion.

My headband somehow managed its way into the dryer.

The things people hold onto even when they are too tight.

I never wanted to go back to the old way of doing things.

That night was so close to perfection.

I haven’t been able to get that back.

I’ve tried, but I never rolled snake eyes.

I felt so safe around him.

Even if we weren’t in the same room, things were easier for me.

The way his wavy hair cascaded past his shoulders.

Some of my friends told me men shouldn’t have long hair, but I didn’t care.

All I knew that he was mine.

I wanted to lose a part of myself to him that night, and he did not disappoint.

The way he touched my face when the beat slowed a bit.

His hands were smooth, and his breath was a mixture of coffee and cigarettes.

I didn’t care about the stink when I kissed him that night.

This was how our relationship developed.

He allowed me to release all the worries as I boogied on the dance floor.

He had such a carefree attitude.

I felt free for the first time in my life.

This freedom lasted throughout the night each time I grabbed his hand as he

twirled me around.

We only existed to each other. He mouthed something to me.

I made out a few words.


The music remained the same when he drifted away from me.

He was no longer close by my side.

Something BOOMED! Something BANGED!

He still made me believe in things. His advice mattered. He kept my heart intact.

We experienced from the same place.

This was an important time in my life.

There were no limits.

It was worth it when we reached our finale.


Yellow Bird

If a bird landed on my shoulder, what color would it be?  And what would he do? 

It might defecate on my new white crispy shirt from my favorite brand name store. 

It could stand on one foot attached to a spindly leg, then the other as if life were

only a game to him.

But when he appeared, he did neither.

Instead, took one glance at my eye wear resting ever so peacefully on my nose

And then tried to lift the frames off my ears, hopping from one side to the next.

This continued much to my mixture of delight and slight irritation until I was

consumed with irritation alone. 

I made limited contact with his frenetic body after a few misses. 

I concluded with a purposeful swat to his body. 

Quite stunned by what I had done, he collected himself and flew away. 

I blurted rather loudly, “good riddance,” and went along my intended path.

But when I turned my head to make sure he was gone, he was about 25 feet away

And flying towards me with his wings flapping in a state of what appeared to be

sheer panic or rage. 

Maybe, this yellow bird has something to tell me. 

“That can’t be,” I said with emphasis.   Birds can’t talk.  Sure, they can chirp.  But

talk to a human being? 

Absolutely not!

I turned back, hoping I would only see a dot in the sky,

With thoughts of what my body must do and my mind should release from the past


It was no such luck because he was still there, only closer.

And as I continued onto the next physical destination,

My mind clearly was not in sync with the next task before me.  

I was flustered from head to toe and beyond.

If only there were repeats in one’s lifetime.

If another bird landed on my shoulder, would the color be different? 

Would he be a she this time? 

Would she peck my eye out? 

Females tend to be more aggressive than males or what I noticed as of late. 

Would she take something away?  And not return it back? 

Would she return it to me in a million broken pieces? 

Would she succeed?

The bird, at hand, must be paid attention to instead of wondering about


The future may hold many possibilities but not currently. 

I straightened up as much as my crippled back allowed, and

Prepared for another duel with this stinking yellow bird.

Hello, My Old Friends: 1990-1999

our land

they say we don’t belong here.
they claim to know.
they think they know.
they presume to know us.
us, a people scattered all over.
they don’t know.
the only people that know is ourselves.
we have walked this planet many times.
our influence has made existence continue.
our power has made the earth open up.
our sacrifice has not been forgotten.
simply we will not go away.
our blood will continue to thrive.
the last day of existence, we will be here.
this is our land.
we were here first.
we are the chosen people.
we took it upon ourselves to uphold the law.
everyone else turned their backs.
step to the plate, we did.
embraced the laws of the land, we followed.
all of this makes us strong.
we continue to be present.
this is our land.

Pluck Away

They steal

My petals

One by one

Two by seven

Yields quicker


They prolong

My death


To pluck


I still remain



Ghost Unknown

This is my ghost

You exist in my dreams

A savior from hell

Not seen by others

You come to take me away

My beating heart

Not quite the same

Moving on after you left

Your face is still real

Imprinted on my brain

Cycling over and over

You have not visited me lately

This fantasy has turned into misery

I do not feel safe

Only harsh echoes from afar

This is not fair

I did not ask for this punishment

You do not love me anymore

This replacement is not good enough

I have become too scary for you

Now I have become the ghost to you

Inner Demons

I hate you when you intrude upon my sleep.
My mind swirls around your shadow.
How you bring me down by telling me lies.
And make up for it by giving me sweet kisses.
You are the force that tempts me into hell.
My body wants to move beyond you.
But I am still spinning around your shadow.
You are plucking at my heartstrings.
Must I be your fancy guitar.

Tribute to my Journals

To the empty pages before me,

I apologize for poisoning your whiteness

With my blood and sweat,

With my sorrow and fears,

With my crying, hurt, and anger.

Please do not be upset with me

When I fill your whiteness with my words.

You save me from future insanity,

The only one non-judgmental of my actions and thoughts,

Giving me so much in return when I ask of nothing.

If it weren’t for you, no one would truly listen,

And the gift you have of responding is impeccable,

Which teaches me how to live to the fullest.

You have done something for me.

I cannot ever repay.

The Meaning

You must look beyond this page.

Go past the words.

Go through the words,

Go into the words.

Let it penetrate your heart.

Let it infect your veins.

Swallow the meaning like food.

Use the energy to move forward.

Pump your body with its exhilaration.

Take it in completely and honestly.

Know it intimately.

Don’t over think.

The mind is not yours.

It cannot be controlled.

It cannot be kept.

It belongs to someone else.

The Kill

With an arched back, I saw him whip the cowboy around with all his might.

This muscular creature was not going to give up even if it meant death.

The crowd was cheering the cowboy to stay with the brute.

The cowboy was giving his all for the audience.

He wanted the spectators to have their money’s worth, and they got it.

After a few minutes of this power struggle, I saw the bull losing ground.

His body wasn’t bucking as forcefully in the beginning.

I thought to myself, this beast is faltering.

The crowd was not on his side.

They wanted to see a fight, but got much more.

This was not a game for the cowboy, but a particular war of survival.

His eyes were like blades cutting thick barbed wire.

Audience members had to know the end was near.

I saw blood oozing onto the ground.

A large puddle of blood had onlookers gasping.

They could not tell if it was coming from the bull or the cowboy.

The continued fight had me standing with great anticipation.

My heart was pumping hard.

In between my heavy breaths, I knew in my heart one was near death.

The cowboy’s hat was on the ground, and the bull was visibly bleeding.

As quick as a blink of an eye, the performance was over.

Blood squirted out of the cowboy’s mouth as he fell down.

He lay there crumpled like a useless piece of paper.

A hole the size of a horn was gouged into his stomach.

The audience members would have to figure it out themselves.

They did not know what I knew before the battle even started.

A trapped beast will never be tame.

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